Unlike Blackwall, Maya had looked forward to the Empress's Ball. Civil war was bad for business, legit or otherwise. If there was a chance to settle the Orlesian conflict, she'd give it her best shot. If she happened to save the Empress from Coryphish's assassin while she was at it, even better. Who knows, maybe there'd be a reward?
Grand Duke Gaspard met the Inquisition at the gate. Maya was favorably impressed. He seemed like a straightforward soldierly type, despised the Game, refused to wear a mask. Maya didn't like masks either, well, not if everyone wore them. How is an honest thief supposed to know the marks from the other thieves if everyone wears a mask?
The snubs over being a dwarf rolled right off of Maya, she expected nothing less and she'd heard much worse from Orzammar high castes.
After scouting all of the areas open to her, she started to case the areas that weren't so open. A trellis up one of the garden walls looked intriguing. She asked Dorian to create a distraction for her, which he agreed to readily with a twirl of mustache.
Drink in hand, Dorian's opening salvo went something like: "You Orlesians throw a decent ball, but it doesn't hold a candle to a real Tevinter soiree. By this time, we should be hip deep in slaves ready to be sacrificed for fireworks, Tevinter-style. Nothing makes a Blooming Rose redder than good old blood-magic ... here, let me show you!"
As Maya scaled the fence, she heard a series of explosions, quickly drowned out by cries of outrage, breaking glass, and something that sounded distinctly like ... THUNK, yes, a rather heavily buckled shoe hitting Tevinter coiffure. Poor Dorian, he was getting a bit more than he bargained for.
Up and out of sight, Maya quickly scooped up all available loot. Hidden items revealed themselves as if ringing chimes of, "Warmer! Hotter! Hot hot hot!" Mystical locking puzzles where no match to her Carta training.
With time to spare, Maya rejoined the revelers. Maya waited for the fashionably-late bell before returning to the ballroom, but before she could get through the door, Morrigan, the magical mystical adviser to the Empress, accosted her. A line from an old travelling minstrel show, "
Something wicked this way comes...," ran through Maya's head.
After a warning about dead Tevinters and missing servants, Morrigan gave Maya a key. First, another round of meet and greets, including with Briala, some kind of elven ambassador. Clearly a high level player of the Game and polar opposite to Gaspard. Maya would keep an eye on Briala.
Maya quickly gathered her crew and headed for the servant's quarters. It was a slaughterhouse. There were more corpses in the kitchen than the Nevarran Grand Necropolis. Out in the courtyard, Maya found a dagger with the Grand Duke's crest in the back of a dead emissary. Damning evidence! Soon, fighting broke out. Tevinter geeks were everywhere. Maya and her crew mowed them down, even the pajama wearing clowns.
(gratuitous action shots)
Maya's crew finished taking out the Tevinter trash. Guess who showed up then? Briala, apparently to complain about having all her kills stolen. Or was it to do some wheeling and dealing? That elven spy network sounded very intriguing -- more organized than the Red Jenny's, but just as invisible. What the Inquisition and Leliana could do with that! Maybe the elven locket Maya had lifted from Celene's vault would come in handy towards that end ...
Back to the ballroom and the fashionably-late bell. This time, Maya was accosted by Gaspard's sister, Duchess Florence Nightingale or something like that. The Duchess proposed a dance. Maya thought this was another snub.
Maya looked around and asked, "Where's the other dwarf?"
"What other le dwarf?" the Duchess asked.
"The one whose shoulders I'm supposed to stand on," Maya said.
Florence laughed and assured Maya that no other dwarf was necessary, the Inquisitor was formidable enough. Flattery, eh? Well two could play at that game. Maya set to work playing The Game to the hilt, scoring plenty of points with the nobility (about 100, but who's counting?)
The Duchess gave Maya a tip about the residential wing. Maya took her crew and swept through room by room. It was no great surprise that it was a trap, but it was a surprise that the Duchess was working for Coryphish! Was there a plague of stupidity running rampant? First the Wardens, now a Duchess? Who would be next, the Qunari? The Avaar?
After closing the rift and killing all the Venatori, Maya released some griping old Fereldan chained to a post. He didn't think much about Orlesians, called them a bunch of cheese eaters. Maya had to admit, he had a point.
Maya now had everything she needed to sew this whole thing up. She saved the Empress, but the Duchess got away. Maya and her crew gave chase. The Duchess did some kind of smoke trick and ditched her fancy gown for a pair of black pajamas that looked like they were made out of curtains and rope pulls, the kind you summoned servants with.
More fighting ensued. Maya had a great time taunting the Duchess by making fun of her pajamas. When the sleeping dust had settled, Maya's crew was victorious. She ran back to the ball room to do some king-making, or queen-making as it turned out.
Gaspard: Treason proved! Off with his head.
Briala: Reconciled, the brains behind the throne.
Celene: Still alive and kicking, though now little more than a puppet of the Inquisition and the elven activists.
With all that settled, Maya finally had a moment to relax. Blackwall turned up and made good on an earlier offer to save a dance for Maya.
Good old Blackwall, reliable as ever. Maya knew she could count on Blackwall always being there. He wasn't one to run out on her or the Inquisition, no matter what the provocation. Yes, honest, reliable, and true, that's Blackwall.
Maya was normally a pretty poor judge of character when it came to bed mates, but this time she thought she finally had her man all figured out ...